


Fateful Day

by VTsuion



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Episode: s01e01 A Study in Pink, Gen, Serial Killer Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 00:24:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15158411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VTsuion/pseuds/VTsuion
Summary: It was a fateful day in deed when John Watson met Sherlock Holmes. What if Sherlock really was the murderer in "A Study in Pink." As Anderson said, "According to someone, 'the murderer has the case.' And we found it in the hands of our favourite psychopath!"





	Fateful Day

**Author's Note:**

> This is another older story of mine, originally written in 2014, and edited a little before publication.

“Sherlock!” John shouted, his voice echoed through the empty library.

Across the way, in another part of the library where his voice did not permeate, he saw Sherlock circling an old man. His gun never left the man’s head.

There was something wrong.

They each held something between their fingers. The old man was frozen to the spot. With some coaxing from Sherlock, they both lifted what looked like pills to their mouths.

No!

Instinctively John fired, his aim just off enough to hit Sherlock in the shoulder. The “consulting detective” fell to the ground and John ran.

Back through the building, down into the parking lot full of police cars and ambulances.

“It’s Sherlock, he-” John shouted to anyone who would listen.

“It’s alright,” a paramedic said, guiding him back over to the ambulance, “They sent a squad up, they’ll deal with it.”

“You don’t understand!”

“It’s alright…” the paramedic sat him down and put a orange shock blanket over his shoulders.

He sat there, staring out into the middle distance, as what had happened sunk in.

Suddenly the library doors burst open and out walked a team of paramedics, surrounding a stretcher. They rushed it into the other ambulance and sped off through the night.

“So you didn’t kill him…” a man remarked, “As expected.”

The man with the umbrella who had kidnapped him - Sherlock’s “archnemesis” - stepped out of the shadows to stand beside John.

“But I must thank you.” he continued.

“Who are you?” John demanded, sliding off the back of the ambulance, to his feet, “You knew all along! Why didn’t you tell me about him when we had our little chat?”

He gave a slight, rueful smile, “You wouldn’t have believed me even if I had. And he still is my younger brother.”

“What?” John exclaimed after a moment’s pause, “You’re brothers? I suppose I see the family resemblance, kidnapping and-”

“Do not get me wrong, my brother’s behavior is most irritating. It is thanks to you that they’ve finally caught him. Now, I must be going to make sure that he doesn’t get away again. I’ll be in touch. Perhaps I could interest you in a job.” And with that, Sherlock’s brother turned away with a swing of his umbrella and vanished into the night.


End file.
